light words of
Mr. Motley about Mr. Linden's care of his wife, and especial distrust
of the gentlemen who had asked her to ride, reached Mr. Middleton's ear
in a very exaggerated and opprobrious form. Mr. Middleton did not know
Mr. Linden, nor know much of him; his bottled-up wrath resolved that
Mr. Linden should not continue long in his reciprocal ignorance. And so
it fell out, that as this week began with showing Mr. Linden something
of Faith that he had not seen before, it did not end without giving her
a new view of him.

It was a captivating summer morning when the cavalcade set forth from
Rye House, on a picnic to Alderney, one of the show places in the
neighbourhood. It seemed fairyland to Faith. The beautiful country over
which they travelled, in summer's luxuriance of grass and grain; the
river rolling below at a little distance, sometimes hidden only to
burst upon the view again; and towering above all, unchanged beyond the
changing lights and shades of the nearer landscape, the long mountain
range. The air was perfection; the sounds of voice and laughter and
horses' brisk feet helped the exhilaration, and the lively colours and
fashion of caps and habits and feathers made pretty work for the eye.
Faith's ears and eyes were charmed. At a cross road the party was
joined by Mr. Middleton; whose good humour, at present in a
loose-jointed state, was nowise improved at the sight of Faith. She
rode then, at any rate; and she sat well and rode fearlessly, that he
could see; and his eye keen for such things, noted too the neat
appointments of her dress, and saw that they were all right, and fitted
her, and she fitted them; and that her figure altogether was what no
man might dislike to have beside him, even a man so careful of his
appearance as Mr. Middleton. Not near Faith did he come; but having
noted all these things with gathering ire, he sheered off to another
part of the troop.

It was a pretty day to Faith, the whole first part of it. The ride, and
the viewing the grounds they went to see. These were indeed naturally
very noble; and to Faith's eyes every new form of natural beauty, of
which her range had hitherto been so very small, was like a fresh
draught of water to thirsty lips. It was a great draught she had this
morning, and enjoyed almost to the forgetfulness of everything else.
Then came the lunch. And that was picturesque, too, certainly; on such
a bank, under such trees, with such a river and mounta